Little Harlequin
by pansexualwaffle
Summary: A year after Dark Knight ends, The Joker is sent back to Arkham. A new doctor, Harleen Quinzel, receives him as her newest patient. What will come out of his? Slight time/age bending, Joker is very OOC.
1. Chapter 1

This includes aspects from all the different versions of Batman, but MAINLY centered around the Dark Knight era. I love that version of the Joker so much~ Love for Heath Ledger!!  
Anywhoozit, based of a rp with my Joker. I don't own anything except the ideas.

* * *

The heavy steel doors were the first thing she noticed. They had intricate details carved into them, thick handles with rusted edges and were at least three inches thick. But what interested her more was the walls that spread out from the doors, and the people who were locked inside them. She glanced from side to side, able to see the water from where she stood. Arkham Asylum was placed on an island just outside of Gotham, and it had taken her three days to drive from Brooklyn to this miserable city. This was her...ticket to fame, she hoped.

Finally, after she grew tired of the staring, she decided it was time to enter. This process was interestingly intricate in itself. She showed her pass to the guard standing out front, and he gave the signal to a man sitting up in the watch tower. She watched closely as he radioed down to another man who was behind the door, who then proceeded to press the button to open the heavy, steel doors. She thanked the man closest to her and continued her exploration of her new workplace.

The hallways went on for miles, it seemed, and there were at least five floors to the building, each one with varying degrees of patients. The first floor was mainly minor patients, a lot of whom admitted themselves after "discovering they had a problem". Dr. Harleen Quinzel wasn't interested in these cases. No, she was here for the more...high end cases. She had always been drawn toward...extreme personalities, after all.

After wandering for a little longer, she found the person she was looking for standing outside the directors office. "Bruce Wayne, correct?"  
He looked up, seeming slightly shocked at the sudden voice. Geez, was she that sneaky? She smiled warmly to herself as he returned the greeting, "Ah, Miss Quinzel, I've heard a lot about you."  
Another smile, this one was a little more forced. _Remember,_ She kept telling herself, _Act professional._ "Oh, please, call me Harley." She said with a happy giggle, turning her head over towards one of the cells, "Everyone does."

"Alright, Miss Harley." He said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands, "Well, at the moment it seems like you are not assigned to a patient. Would you like to take a look around and meet one?"  
"Ah, yes, thank you." And so, they started up the stairs to the fourth floor. It was filled with people whom she had seen before, but never up close. Only in newspaper ads and on the evening news. Poison Ivy, Pamela Isley. Scarecrow, Jonathon Crane. Two-Face, Harvey Dent. None of them truly interested her.  
Then, she saw him. Well, actually at first, she heard him whistling a soft, happy tune to himself. She took a few more steps until she was standing in front of the steel door with a small, barred window peeking in. And there he was, with his green hair and never ending smile. The Joker. No one knew his true identity. Maybe, just maybe, she would be the one to find out.  
"Has anyone been assigned to him?"

Bruce turned slightly pale, looking the frail girl over and then glancing at the cell. "W-Well no, but...are you sure you want him for a patient? He's rather different than most..."  
She turned her attention back and saw piercing eyes looking at her. Straight at her. "Yes, I'm sure."  
"A-Alright..." He stuttered again, writing the information down quickly, "Then, there you go. We'll set up your first appointment for tommorrow."

Oh, this would be interesting.  
Little did she know, he was thinking the same thing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Excuse me, Dr. Quinzel, but we need to check you for anything dangerous before you go in."  
Harleen looked up at the guards with a surprised expression. Were they accusing her? "What do you mean, boys? I'm not going to take a knife or gun into an interview."  
They gave her a serious look, "Miss, this is the Joker we're talking about. Anything can be a weapon. Earrings, pens, high heeled shoes. You name it."

By the end of it she gave in, handing the men her dangling red diamond earrings and replacing her shoes with flats. "I need the pen," she had told them, "To take my notes." They allowed it, but warned her not to let him get a hold of it. And then, they opened the heavy door to the Jokers cell.

It was dark. She hadn't expected much, but it was still surprising for some reason. The halls were a grey-white plaster, presumably with brick underneath. The floor was the same color, with a rusted old drain in the middle. A small bed was pressed against the wall with white cover and a thin pillow. Next to that was a bedside table, which was completely empty except for a small black and white doll. Harleen didn't get a very good look, because she jumped around as the guards slammed the door, then back around when her patient greeted her with a rough voice, "Hello there, Dr. Quinzel..." he paused as her eyes drifted away from his and to the corners of his mouth. Two deep, upward scars were there, usually hidden under make up or mask. She must have been gaping, because he asked with a smile, "Is it the scars? Do you wanna know how I got them?"

That was why she was here, Harleen remembered; to learn the Jokers story. So she nodded, sitting in a small chair which had been proveded for her. Slowly, he rose off the bed and began to talk, "See, when I was little...my father was...was a drunk. He liked to beat me and my mum. Said something about it being his...stress relief."

She felt her heart pounding against her chest as he moved to kneel beside her, "So one day, he was ireally/I stressed out...so he comes home and starts taking it out on my mother. 'nd after a while, she stopped moving. 'nd then she stopped breathing." Slowly, the Joker rose to his feet, "then he turns to me-only a little thing, remember- and asks me, "why are you crying, boy? Why so serious? Let me..."" he moved behind the blonde, her shoulders rising and falling quickly, "Put a smile back on that face.""

He stopped for a moment, hands on his newest doctors shoulders. She was afraid, yes, but she wasn't running. She must have known what was coming next.  
Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, "So he took the knife off the counter, stuck it in the corner of my mouth, and..." To demonstrate the cutting, he put a finger to her lips and dragged up her cheek, smudging the red lipstick into a one sided smile. He walked in front of her, admiring his handiwork.

Taking the sleeve of her jacket, Harleen wiped away as much of the lipstick smile she could, then turned her attention back to her patient, "I...I see. What happened afterwards?"  
There was a pause, and he laughed lightly, "I wish I knew, Dr. Quinzel."

"Oh, please, feel free to call me Dr. Harley. Everyone does."  
"Dr. Harley..." The man murmured, eyes pulling away from her and to the floor, "You know, I've been hearing a lot about you from ol' Quincy..."  
"Oh, you have, have you?"  
He looked up at her with dark circles under his eyes. A moment later, his lips retirned to a smile, "Harley Quinzel...play with it a little, and it's Harley Quinn!"  
"Like...like a harlequin. Yes, I've heard."  
The smile fell a little, but was still there as she spoke, "Well, I think that's all the time we have today. I'll see you again tommorrow, mr. Joker."  
"Until then," he said as she turned and walked to the door, "My little harlequin."


	3. Chapter 3

It was during their seventh session that he gave her the doll.

Whenever she had come around, it was in a different position. Somedays when they were talking, he would play around with it, making it dance and flip. But that day, he set it in her lap.  
"A harlequin for Imy/I harlequin." He said, smirking.

"Harlequ--Mr. Joker, I'd really rather you call me by my name."  
"Ah, but that is your name!" he said, smiling. She tried to object again, but he put a finger to her lips. "Are you really going to argue with me, Doctor? iMe/I?"  
She laughed softly, almost nervously, "Are you threatening me, sir?"  
He paused, giving her a look with those dark eyes, "Do you really think I'd threaten you, Harleen?" When she didn't respond, he scowled. Why was she afraid? It wasn't as if he had ever done anything to hurt her; and she was the only one in there whom he could honestly say that about.

"No..." She finally responded, "I don't think you would..." Her blue eyes wandered down to the doll, which she picked up and held in her hands.  
"Good answer." He murmured, looking her once over. That blonde hair of hers was tied up as usual in a tight bun, her intriguing eyes hidden behind her glasses. She wore that boring uniform- for some reason he wondered if she even wore anything else. Probably not. Harleen was too proud of her job.  
And there was something else; she never truly smiled.

"So," she began quietly, "How have you been since I last saw you?"  
He grunted slightly, not wanting to respond. But there she was, giving him those sad eyes that made him talk to her.  
"Why are you always so serious, doctor?"

Immediatly, the Joker knew he had said the right thing. The way her eyes widened ever so slightly and she began chewing on the inside of her lip, he could tell he had bothered her.  
"What do you mean by serious?" she asked, stuttering slightly but trying to keep up that professional act. Poor Harleen should have been on Broadway, not in Arkham.

"I mean serious. That fake smile hides your true misery." he looked away, out through the barred window. He heard her murmuring something to herself. "What was that, dear Quinzel?"  
"I...I said that...we really should be talking about you, not me..."

This happened everytime. Like last week, for example. Harleen had been late for their session because she missed the bus, making her miss the ferry to the island. When she finally arrived, they spent most of their time discussing why she didn't have a car and where she lived. The Joker had mentally stored her address in his head, just in case...you never know, of course.

"Well, I like to talk about you more, Doctor. When you only remember the last three years of your life, it tends to be boring."  
/Ah, that's right/ Harleen remembered, /He's an amnesiac, isn't he? His files said they don't know age, name, birthplace, anything. How odd.../

"I...I see..." she glanced down at her watch quickly. /Ten more minutes.../ Harleen sighed softly, gaining her patients attention.  
He moved towards the chair she was in, eyes traveling to the little doll before slowly going back up her body. Standing directly in front of her, the man leaned down so their faces were almost touching. Green hair drapped around their faces like a curtain, and Harleen's lips turned to a frown.

"You can't try anything; there are guards."  
"Where's your pen, Doctor Quinzel?" he breathed out softly on her face, and she closed her eyes to pull away. "P-pen...?" she reached down to her pocket, but it was.  
"Mr. Joker, I need that back."  
He was back on his bed now, scratching black ink on the walls. Once it was flowing again, he began to write. Judging from how random some of the words were, she assumed he was writing whatever came to mind. After ten minutes of writing, one section of the wall was covered and he handed her back the pen. "Be more careful next time, doctor." he smirked, stroking a finger down her cheek, "Don't be so...distracted."

With a soft pink tone on her cheeks, she snatched the pen away and murmured a quiet, "Until next time." 


End file.
